Reality
by WinterGarden
Summary: Bruce stands on the streets of New York with a ripped bag of groceries, looking into the eyes of the one woman he had ever truly loved. This is his life. This is his reality. Bruce-centric, angst.


**Just a really quick one-shot I wrote about Bruce and Betty (if you haven't seen the Incredible Hulk, you won't know who she is!). I've had this idea in my head for quite a while, so we'll see how you like it! Thanks for reading, and reviews are always, always appreciated :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all!**

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Bruce ran a hand through his thick black hair, squinting against the sun. He carried a paper bag of groceries in one hand and dug into his pocket with the other hand, searching for sunglasses. He passed girls in sunglasses and women in tank tops. Men with baseball caps and grey T-shirts. Bruce wore his same button down shirt and khaki pants. Only two blocks left until he got to the tower. Tony told him there was no need for grocery shopping anymore—Tony could have someone else do it in a heartbeat, while they played in the lab. Bruce laughed and yanked his arm away that Tony was clutching playfully. With another laugh and without another word, Bruce was out the door. Past Steve and Thor, watching TV on opposite ends of the couch. Past Natasha and Clint, who talked at the kitchen table, heads close and smiles small. And then finally past Pepper, who gave him the same radiant smile every time she saw him.

Truthfully, Bruce liked shopping for groceries. It made him feel normal. People didn't stare at him as he perused the aisles with a cart. They didn't avert their eyes or walk the other way. And they didn't surround him like they did with his best friend—Bruce couldn't go anywhere with Tony without being surrounded by Tony's numerous friends. But Bruce didn't mind. He shopped, he looked for the sales, he made his purchase, and he walked back to the tower. Normal.

Giving up on his sunglasses, Bruce dropped his hand and pulled out his phone. As he was about to call Tony and tell him he wasn't able to get pudding cups (knowing Tony would throw a fit), he felt a bump against the back of his knees. His bag of groceries fell to the hot concrete.

"Whoa!" The voice that greeted him belonged to a little boy about three-years-old. He looked up at Bruce with wide blue eyes, grinning from ear to ear. His blond hair was messy from the wind, and his cheeks were pink.

"I'm running!"

"I know you are," Bruce laughed, kneeling to meet the boy's eyes. "You're pretty fast."

"I'm the fastest _ever_," The boy replied. Bruce found himself smiling—the toothy grin in front of him was enough to make any man, no matter how giant and green on the inside, melt. His blue eyes glistened in the sun.

"You spilled your bag." The blond-haired boy pointed to Bruce's groceries.

"I guess I did. Do you like apples?" Bruce asked, holding up a particularly large green apple.

"That's ginormous!" Giggled the little boy, taking the apple from Bruce. "Whoa!" Bruce laughed again.

"I'm Bruce. What's your name?"

"Charlie."

"I like that name."

"Thank you!"

It was only after Bruce had finished loading the groceries back in the bag when he realized he didn't see the boy's mother anywhere nearby. Bruce glanced around, the boy still talking a mile a minute. Bruce couldn't understand half of it—but he hadn't stopped smiling since he felt Charlie tumble against his legs.

"Where's your mom?"

"I dunno."

"Are you lost?"

"I dunno."

"Should we go find her?"

"Yes!" Charlie stretched his arms high in the air, hands opening and closing. Bruce stood for a moment, watching those small hands reach for him. In India, he helped kids all the time. Soothed them when they were in pain and held their hands until they fell asleep. Sometimes he told them stories and they laughed through their sickness. And now here he was, in the sunny streets of New York, looking into the eyes of a little boy who seemed to completely trust him.

Little, tiny hands.

Opening and closing.

Bruce reached out tentatively and took one of Charlie's hands, which closed tightly around Bruce's. When Charlie smiled again, Bruce let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Charlie!" This voice didn't belong to Bruce or Charlie. Bruce turned and was met by the blinding light of the sun. He saw the figure of a woman hurrying towards them. Her long hair around her shoulders bounced as she ran forward, loaded down with shopping bags and a stroller. "Charlie, sweetie!"

And then Bruce stopped breathing.

That voice.

He knew that voice.

"Sweetie-pie, what are you doing running off? You know that scares mommy."

Bruce nearly let go of Charlie and took off. He didn't know whether it was Charlie's smile that kept him put or the dreaded curiosity of what was about to happen. When the woman caught up to him, Bruce let out the breath he was holding.

"Betty."

"Bruce," His old girlfriend said breathlessly, pushing strands of hair away from her face. She was quiet for a long moment, and the two stared at each other—just as they used to do, but this time the love was gone. The mystery of loving someone new was gone. Everything that used to be was gone.

"This is my friend," Charlie broke the silence that lasted a lifetime. He held up Bruce's hand, showing him off to his mother.

"I know," Betty breathed, her eyes still wide with surprise.

"You do?"

"He used to be my friend, too."

Bruce suddenly felt his throat tighten. He opened and closed his mouth, pausing before he spoke.

"This is…this is your…"

"My Charlie. I mean, my son. This is my son, Charlie." Betty laughed, her cheeks turning pink. "My gosh, Bruce, how long has it been?"

The lump was bigger in his throat, and Bruce could only shake his head and shrug awkwardly. "A long time," He finally croaked.

Another lifetime of looking at one another.

"This is my apple." Charlie held up the green apple bigger than his hand.

"I think that's Bruce's apple, sweetie," Betty laughed, winking at Bruce. Bruce looked down at Charlie, who turned his wide crystal eyes on Bruce.

"Here's your apple."

"Keep it."

Charlie looked to his mom, who nodded.

"You're married now," Bruce said, looking at the diamond on Betty's finger.

"I am," Betty said, nodding. Her eyes sparkled. Did they sparkle like that when she was with Bruce? "His name is David. And this is Charlie, but you already know that." Betty laughed again, tossing her curls back over her shoulder.

"I saw you on the news the other day," Betty said, shifting her weight onto one foot and crossing her arms.

"You saw me?"

"Yeah—that press conference thing you did with your—your friends?" It was almost a question. "You know, Tony Stark and everybody."

"I know," Bruce smiled slightly. Suddenly the memory of him and Tony jumped to mind—standing off stage, Tony fussing over Bruce's tie. Bruce laughing, Tony making jokes. Betty used to fuss over Bruce like that. So much had changed.

"Of course you know. Well—my gosh, you're a hero now!"

"I wouldn't call it that."

"Well you were always too hard on yourself."

"I wouldn't say that."

"Of course you wouldn't."

Another long, long pause.

"Well—I've got to go, Charlie and I are having a movie date today." Betty squeezed her son's hand as he squealed. Embarrassed, Bruce realized he was still holding Charlie's hand tightly. Even more embarrassed, Bruce felt his eyes prickle. He imagined how they looked right now. Betty, with a stroller and shopping bags. Bruce, with groceries and holding a little boy who laughed and played with an apple. If the Bruce five years ago had seen this scene, he would have thought it was his future. Wife. Beautiful boy. Smiling under the clear blue sky, the sun dancing in his and Betty's eyes.

But it was not reality.

Reality was when Bruce handed Charlie back to Betty. Reality was Charlie's little wave and big grin before he was turned around. Reality was Betty's over-the-shoulder smile, filled with sadness. Most of all, reality was Bruce being left alone on the sidewalk with a ripped bag of groceries.

Bruce dropped the bag of groceries on the first floor kitchen of Stark Tower. He strode past Pepper, ignoring her smile. He ignored Clint and Natasha's laughter. He ignored Steve and Thor's bickering. He definitely ignored the look he knew that Tony was giving him through the glass window of the lab as he stormed past.

When Bruce shut the door to his room, his eyes glassy and breath ragged, he knew.

Reality was being alone.


End file.
